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Ida C. Van Gundy 

Book Art Craft Shop 

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671 Broad Street 

Newark, N. J. 



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CONTENTS 

Embers 7 

The Road to Happiness 11 

Deep, Deep in the Heart Something Stirred . . 23 

The Small, White Thing 31 

Love Leads the Way 37 

Words 41 

The Red Rose 47 

God's In His Heaven 53 

God and Man 57 



DEDICATION 
TO PAL — 

And the one to whom this name applies, 
though miles separate and years intervene, 
will know instantly and feel the thrill of love 
and good wishes with which it is given. 

It is but a poor tribute to a friendship 
proven capable of great things, and were my 
consciousness to be made manifest to you, dear 
old Pal, it w^ould burst into a path of roses 
leading up to you and bidding you come all 
the holy way to meet me. 

May Love, Infinite, Divine, ever enfold 
you. 



EMBERS 

The fire in the large open grate had flamed high — 
it had shot great ribbons of red and gold high up the 
wide chimney, lined with velvety black soot. Back on 
the walls of the quaint old Inn had leaped great 
shadows of those comfortably seated, in silence, around 
the cheery fire. 

Without, our friend, the North Wind, had full 
sway — he swept great clouds of snow against the win- 
dows, and howled to get in at the door. But he only 
made the cheeriness and comforts of the Inn more and 
more appreciated by the contrast. 

And so those who sat there in silence dreamed on 
— each of his life and its experiences, until the silence 
seemed to literally burst forth with unexpressed stories, 
songs and bits of prose. 

And at length the flames of the fire died down, and 
ever and anon a tiny blue flame would light up the 
room; and presently the great fireplace lay full of liv- 
ing embers — glowing, breathing embers. Not embers 
in the sense that they represented the charred remains 
of what they had been, but embers, expressing the full 
import of their mission; embers full of light and heat, 
softened and refined by the fire. 

And it was this very rosy, mellow glow of light 
and warmth which unlocked the hearts of those gath- 
ered there; unlocked, as it were, secret gardens and 
chambers, and bared to the soft light of kindness rare 
flowers, jewels and treasures. 

[7] 



And it was the keeper of the Inn who first spoke : 
^'Kind friends, while these embers are expressing their 
purpose and telling their story, what say ye that we 
each tell his story or sing his song?" And being moved 
by one spirit, they agreed, one after another, to relate 
his story, his song or word. 



[8] 



EMBERS 

"THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS" 

Being the Story the Tired Business Man Told 




THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS 

COLD, blustery wind came down the ave- 
nue carrying everything before it. It was a 
terrifically cold wind, one that made the tele- 
phone wires literally sing and snap w^ith 
tension. It had a sting in it like the lash of a whip, and 
made you think unpleasant things. It was just this 
particular kind of a wind that painted everybody's 
nose red and ears purple. You halfway hated yourself 
without a cause ; you sort of wished you had migratory 
sense to move with the sun, instead of so-called human 
intellect that tried to bluff an impossible game. 

At the corner Jimsy, the newsboy, was struggling 
against almost insupportable odds to keep his stock in 
trade under control. The wind laughed at him as it 
stung his half-frozen face, and snatched a paper from 
his hands, tossing it to the top of the tallest building. 
He blew on his purple, benumbed fingers and cursed 
the whole thing. 

''Damn it, anyway, dis is a fine day for the day 
before Christmas, but," he went on talking into his 
hands, ''what difference does it make to me, whether it 
is the day before Christmas or the day before Fourth 
of July? It's all de same to me — 'cept, perhaps, I gits 
a free meal, fer nothin', at the hall with the other nuts. 
But nobody cares really fer me, where I comes or goes." 
All the gray of the leaden sky settled about him men- 
tally; the whole thing seemed so futile and useless: — 
what was it all about? — just work and barely enough 
money for a bed and a scant meal or two. 

[II] 



Slumbering in the soul of Jimsy was a wistful 
longing for something better and nobler than his pres- 
ent existence — an innate longing for some of the good 
things of life. Sometimes he almost heard it speak to 
him, and he longed to find the secret spring that would 
be the '^open sesame" to all he desired. He knew that 
it was there, yet undiscovered. Everywhere he sought 
for light. He listened to the Socialist speaker tell 
about how everything should be divided and then all 
would be happy; but inwardly he knew this was not 
the happiness he sought. At the slum mission he 
heard them say ^'It is more blessed to give than to re- 
ceive," at the same time shoving a collection basket in 
his face. He rather resented this sort of teaching. 
How could he give, when it took every cent he could 
make to buy his papers, pay for a poor living, and sup- 
ply him with a cheap bed. Still, the mission was gen- 
erally warm, and after the ordeal of the collection 
basket he could stand the rest. 

And so, on this very day, he stood there in the 
blustery wind pondering this very sentence, ^'It is more 
blessed to give than to receive." ''It's a cinch I'll not 
be much blessed," he soliloquized, ''but it's not my 
fault; I ain't got nothing to give with." The heart of 
Jimsy was big, it yearned for expression, it was a loving 
heart that wanted to do for others. Just like the great 
blue eyes that begged for understanding, his heart 
longed for that freedom to do and to be. After having 
reasoned himself into the depths of despair, he turned 
on his reason and with a bitter smile said, "Aw, well, 

[12] 



it's an ill wind that blows nobody good." Hardly had 
he uttered the words when out of the last gust of 
stinging wind a little booklet dropped on his stand. 
^^Hello," he said, ^'what's dis? — it must be the 'good' 
and I must be the 'nobody.' " 

''The Road to Happiness," he read out loud, tak- 
ing the book up, and opening it he began to read. "As 
a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." Jimsy had 
heard this many times, and had passed it by without a 
thought, but to-day it somehow or other stuck with 
him ; it held his attention, and so he read on : 

"Rome was not built in a day, neither can a 
man by one thought think himself a king and 
attain that place. Wherever this finds you in life 
— start by taking the next upward step, be it ever 
so small. Then, step by step, you can climb to 
any height. 

"For the first step suppose you try thinking 
happiness; start your progress with a happy 
thought; change your frowns into smiles, your bad 
words into good. If you have half the faith that 
you can be absolutely happy right here and now, 
that you have in your present unhappy situation, 
you have succeeded with the first step. 

"Be happy in spite of weather, ancestors, or 
circumstances. Happiness is like oil on the axle 
of a wagon, it keeps it from wearing away. So 
happiness will keep your life from becoming a 
grind. Remember — one step at a time. To-day 
let us try happiness." 

[13] 



Jimsy read the page over carefully; he saw the 
logic of it; he knew that he could change his thought 
if he so desired, and perhaps it would be the beginning 
of the upward climb to something better. '^Be happy 
in spite of weather ... or circumstances . . . 
Happiness is like oil." He half smiled to himself as 
he read this; he wondered if the writer of this little 
book had ever stood on a windy street corner and 
handed out papers to a growling, scolding public, 
which thought no more of you than it did of the box on 
which your papers lay. 

Vf^ 7|v i^ 7^ ^^ 

The nearby subway belched forth its stream of 
hurrying, disgruntled passengers. As they came up 
the damp, smelly stairway and out into the street, His 
Nibs the wind was there waiting to snatch away their 
hats and breath and make them unhappy if possible. 
He waited there to sting them in the face and make 
them cross (like bears are supposed to be). 

"Whoopes, she's colder than seven hundred dol- 
lars," said his first customer, peering out of a great fur- 
collared coat. ^'I hate this kind of a beastly day." 
Jimsy was just about ready, through force of habit, to 
second the remark when he remembered the book — 
^'Start your progress with a happy thought." ^Well," 
he said, making change, ^4t's colder at the North Pole, 
I guess," and smiled up at the man. ''It sure does 
make your blood circulate, this kind of a day does." 
The man stopped a moment and looked at Jimsy; he 
looked at the purple, half-frozen fingers, and smiling 

[14] 



back at the boy said, ''Well, if youVe got no room for 
complaint, surely I haven't," and hooking his great fur 
collar, he went away chuckling to himself, unmindful 
of the wind. 

Later in the day a limousine drew up to the curb, 
and a little gray lady called out, ''Here, boy, bring me 
a paper." When Jimsy came with the paper she took 
it, saying, "If this isn't the nastiest day I ever saw! If 
I were a man, I'd surely swear." The last gust of 
wind, which had disturbed the little lady so, had not 
helped Jimsy to keep his resolution to be happy; rather, 
he felt like cussing for the little lady, but he turned to 
her and said, "Well, it is kind of cold, but think how 
you'll like your nice warm fire when you get home." 

"A warm fire," repeated the little lady, looking at 
the large blue eyes smiling up at her. There was a 
queer sort of pity and love in her glance, and smiling 
back at the boy standing there in the cold, she said, 
"Well, come to think of it, a fire does feel pretty good 
this kind of weather." 

And so through the whole long, cold day Jimsy 
kept turning frowns into smiles; he began to see how 
many smiles he could get from his customers ; he began 
to count those who had come up half mad at the whole 
world, and who had gone away with a smile; and at 
night when he sought out his cheap lodging house he 
felt an inward thrill that he had accomplished some- 
thing. He felt he had taken the first step up the ladder 
that was to lead him out of this dark pit of circum- 
stance. He proved not only that "As a man thinketh 

[15] 



in his heart, so is he," but also that ''As a man think- 
eth in his heart, so are all other men" who come in 
contact with him. 

On the next page of the little book Jimsy read: 

''All things are possible to him who believes 
in an absolute, positive Good. Believe, and it shall 
be so; ask, and it shall be given ; ask, believing that 
all that you desire will be given you, for good is 
all about you, waiting to be spoken into manifes- 
tation, to be asked for. 

"Why seek ye a God that is afar off, when the 
Living God who is able to do 'exceeding abun- 
dant, more than we ask or think,' is right at hand, 
waiting to bless?" 

Jimsy had never prayed nor asked for anything. 
He only bowed his head when they prayed at the mis- 
sion. The preacher always did the praying; he was 
the only one who knew how to get in touch with the 
God who was away off yonder in the skies. Jimsy 
never even thought of so much as trying to pray — he 
knew that he could never find the God who was away 
off somewhere with the angels — but the book said, 
"Why seek ye a God that is afar off when the Living 
God, who is able to do all things, is right at hand, wait- 
ing to bless?" Then somewhere also in the little book 
it explained that since all good things came from 
heaven, the inward desire of every living being to be 
better and nobler, to give and help the less fortunate 
brother, was but the "still, small voice" of truth trying 
to make itself manifest in us, only we stood in our own 

[i6] 



way, wc went on trying to arrange and force conclu- 
sions rather than leaving our lives completely to the 
will of God, Good. 

Jimsy felt rather ashamed as he read on and on in 
the little book ; he remembered the voice that spoke so 
often, half pleading with him to do this or that, and 
how it had been drowned in his belief in circumstances 
and conditions. Then the little book said that within 
every man lay the possibility of being that which he 
desired to be; but as surely as it took proper care and 
attention to bring the mighty oak tree out of the tiny 
acorn, so it took care, good thoughts, willingness to be 
led as a little child, good words and deeds to draw the 
perfect man out of the limited human concept of him. 

That night when Jimsy was ready to climb into 
his fifteen-cent bed, for the first time in his life he 
knelt down and prayed. He gave thanks for the little 
book; he gave thanks for the happy day; and last he 
asked with the heart of a child, '^Give me, dear God, a 
nice warm fire and a little love." 

The next day was not much of an improvement. 
It was blustery and cold, but the heart of Jimsy sang 
on, it thrilled with a certain something, it felt as free 
as if a great responsibility had suddenly been lifted. 
He felt a careless abandonment, verging on reckless- 
ness, but which was stayed by perfect Faith. Looking 
over his papers, he smiled to himself. "Nothing has 
changed," he said, "still everything has changed." He 
kept repeating to himself, "I believe, I believe." 

[17] 



The clock over in the church chimed out ten when 
the limousine with the little lady drew up to the curb. 
"Come here, boy," she said. "If you haven't a good 
warm fire and a nice hot dinner to go home to to-day, I 
want you to come home with me." Jimsy lifted his 
large blue eyes to her and said, "I'll go, and thank you, 
thank you so." Picking up his three remaining papers, 
he got in with the little lady, and away they flew 
through the "nasty, cold wind," all housed in the 
sweet-smelling, electrically-heated limousine. 

Pretty soon they stopped in front of a comfortable 
looking old house on the park, and Jimsy followed the 
little lady through a hall and into a great, comfortable 
living room, at one end of which blazed a merry fire. 
"It's all so beautiful and grand," said Jimsy, half aloud, 
holding out his hands to the fire. "My boy," said the 
lady, coming up to him and putting her arm about his 
shoulders, "it did not mean much to me until yesterday; 
you made me stop a moment and be grateful, and so I 
am sharing it with you. It is more blessed to give than 
to receive," she said to him, and Jimsy knew now what 
it meant to "give" — not a little money, but a little 
smile, a little cheer, a little love. 

As they sat there before the great fire, the door 
opened, and the man in the great coat with the fur 
collar came in. The lady rose to greet him. "Well, 
mother," he said, not noticing Jimsy, who was buried 
in a huge armchair near the fire, "our little ^happy 
lad' newsboy had gone. I stopped for him on the way 
out, but he had gone. A boy who can smile and be 

[i8] 



pleasant in a gale of freezing wind like we had yester- 
day, has the right kind of stuff in him to make good, 
and I have decided to give him a chance in the office." 
"Come here," said the little woman, taking him by the 
arm, "I have a gift for you, a gift I shall both give and 
keep," and leading him up to the large armchair she 
showed him Jimsy, who looked up from the Road to 
Happiness with a little smile, a little cheer, a little 
love, gleaming in his deep blue eyes. 



[19] 



"DEEP, DEEP IN THE HEART SOME 
THING STIRRED" "ZL 

The Story Told by the Naturalist 




DEEP, DEEP IN THE HEART SOME- 
THING STIRRED 

EEP in the heart of the forest — snugly buried 
beneath the warm earth and leaves — lay an 
hyacinth bulb. In the heart of it, it dreamed 
of a beautiful pink flower — so full of per- 
fume that it filled the whole woods. It dreamed of a 
very blue sky and tall, black trunks of trees with their 
great swaying branches — but still it dreamed on — be- 
cause this was not possible to My Lady Hyacinth — 
since she lay buried deep in the earth which was cov- 
ered with a heavy layer of leaves and snow — but, any- 
way, she dreamed it — it was her secret. She did not 
tell anybody else, because it was too sacred — and be- 
cause she had no words to express that secret, had she 
wanted to talk about it — but one thing she knew, and 
that was that it was there. 

Deep in the heart of man lies buried this same 
secret — he feels a God-like something imaging itself in 
his thought — he thinks also of lofty hills and blue skies, 
and he dreams of untrammeled walks through green 
pastures and beside still waters — but it, too, is buried 
deep in an earth of material reasoning and thinking, 
and over this is a thousand and one mortal laws and 
human opinions which even freeze the ground tighter 
about him. And he, too, tells his secret to no one — 
because it is so sacred — and also because he has no 
words to express it — and then, too, because no one 
would understand it. But within, his heart sings to 

[23] 



him, and sometimes it almost pleads openly to be 
expressed. 

And in the heart of the pale blue tgg that lay in 
the robin's nest a whole world was mirrored — but it 
was bound by an ugly hard shell that it could never 
break — its thrilling dream of flight through the air 
with its throat swelling with glorious music was also 
the secret that it kept — the secret of expressing itself. 

But anon — deep in the heart of the hyacinth some- 
thing stirred — it was a queer sort of a feeling — half 
disturbing, half joyous — almost as if something was 
pushing it out of its warm white bed. Yes, that was 
what was happening, and the hyacinth thrilled with 
joy — but presently it was confronted by the dark black 
earth which said to it, "You can never force your way 
through all this — you will die in the struggle; and, 
besides, when you do peep through, the frost will freeze 
you, and you'll wish you had stayed where you be- 
longed." But something had stirred in the hyacinth — 
and just as she was about ready to turn back and give 
up, this something said, "Keep going — the way will 
open." And so the hyacinth abandoned herself to this 
inner voice, and her dream came true. 

And so with the little blue egg — something stirred 
— but the shell said, "You cannot get out of this condi- 
tion ; I have bound you fast — ^you cannot break through 
this wall of prejudice and heredity." But something 
had stirred, and the little bird kept growing until he 
had almost filled the shell, and then he thought — and 
feared and wondered. "To-morrow I shall completely 

[24] 



fill the shell — then what will happen? I cannot get 
out ; to-morrow will be the end of it all." To-morrow 
was a black and awful affair to the little bird who had 
almost used up his supply — who had come to the limits 
of his present condition. He could not see any further 
than the narrow boundary of his shell, and he had com- 
pletely forgotten to look within, and by looking within 
see the way out of the whole situation; so he settled 
down to worry, often looking at the tiny mite of room 
he had left to grow in — and which he was constantly 
using up. He wished he could stop growing; he 
wanted to save the room. He could not see that by 
using up the room he had he would burst its narrow 
limitations and have all the room there was in the 
world. But presently in his dire distress he turned to 
the "still, small voice" within and heard the words, 
"Take no thought for the morrow. Now is the time. 
Live to the fullest extent now, if it be to the most outer 
limits of your environment; if it be to the last sou you 
possess, use all that you have which you find necessary 
to use — and see what happens." So the little bird also 
with an abandon grew to the limit of the shell's capa- 
city, and then the narrow walls began to crack and give 
way. A powerful light began to penetrate the shell 
— and again a wild fear took possession of him. He 
was losing his protection — his present home was being 
broken up — he was being cast into a strange world ; and 
another panic ensued. Fearful images of what might 
happen if he dared to leave his present hedged-in think- 
ing. He kept his eyes close fixed on the outer condi- 

[25] 



tion, and they certainly looked as nothing other than 
chaos and decay. But the happy inner voice said to 
him, ''Judge not from appearances — get a look at the 
power back of all this change; keep praising its won- 
derfulness, because all power is good, and only good 
can result from any change when you declare that the 
power of good is at work accomplishing whereunto it 
was sent." So the little bird felt a happy, contented 
feeling that the whole matter was in the hands of this 
power, and that, whatever came, it must be good for 
him, because there was but one power, and that one 
Good. And at last the shell gave way, and his dream 
was realized. Had he one regret that he had declared 
the truth about there being but one Power, and that one 
Good? Had he one faint longing to return to the nar- 
row confines of his former abode? Had he one fear 
that he could not meet the issues as they came to him if 
he listened to the ''still, small voice" within? No; not 
one. He lay there snugged up under the wings of 
Love — oh, so happy, so warm; and as he lay there he 
listened to the singing of the heart of Love. It was a 
silent song, not heard with ears, but infinitely sweeter. 
It was the great heart of Love that sings a constant 
symphony of harmony and love to the listening ear. It 
was the great unselfish and impartial parent love 
which breathed forth in holiness, "Our Father which 
art in heaven." It was the joy of being in His presence 
and feeling his tender care and relationship that wove 
itself into the song which the little bird heard, but 
which the noisy world missed. 
[26] 



And so within the heart of the man — something 
stirred, but he, too, was afraid to listen. His family 
said it was imagination; his friends laughed at it; ma- 
terial laws held up its hands and said, '^Impossible — 
idealistic and absurd." And the poor fluttering hopes 
of man fell into despair and bondage. But the heart 
of him sung on, ''You are free born — you are the son of 
a king." "Speak as one having authority." "Ask and 
ye shall receive" — and little by little the man began to 
listen to this inner voice. He used the "manna" of 
that day without fear that the inexhaustible source 
would be cut off, without trying to hoard up enough 
for to-morrow; and presently the shackles dropped 
from him and he walked Free — a son of the King. 

So, dear one who has heard this story, if a condi- 
tion presents itself to you that you do not understand — 
and which seems like chaos or fear — just turn within 
and declare that the power operating within you can 
only be good, since all power is good; and judge not 
from appearances, no matter how contrary to good they 
seem. The very worst condition that may present it- 
self to you may only be the power of good pushing you 
from the shell of limited thinking, and preparing you to 
enter a greater sense of Heaven. 

And if in your sickness you stop but a moment and 
realize that the only power operative, not only in you, 
but in the whole universe, is good, and that power is 
always present, you will quickly see that what seems to 
be sickness is merely an evil thought being destroyed or 
pushed out of your consciousness by this ever operative 

[27] 



power of good, and you will rejoice in the midst of the 
lion's den, because you will realize that the night is far 
spent, and already you will begin to see the rosy tint of 
dawn — if you but turn to the East. So, no matter what 
the condition seems to be, just declare the allness of 
this one power good — let go and let it have full sway in 
you, glory in it in spite of all material conditions, and 
soon you will preen your wings and fly off to higher 
fields of joy. 



[28] 



"THE SMALL, WHITE THING" 
What the Truth-Sayer from the Far East Told 




THE SMALL, WHITE THING 

N the sacred scrolls it is written, "And in the 
morning the ground lay covered with a 
small, white thing" — and they said it is 
manna ; we shall gather and eat. And every 
morning they did gather and eat of the white manna; 
neither did they try to eat or gather sufficient one 
morning to last them a week, but each morning they 
partook of this bread which came down from heaven, 
and which sustained them through the long day. And 
what was this small, white thing which came to supply 
them every morning with food? Was it not the bread 
of life which, if eaten in the morning, would nourish 
the waste places and save from sudden attacks of the 
enemy? Was it not the renewing of the mind by con- 
templation of the real — early in the day before the 
contemplation of the unreal had darkened the thought 
so that they could not see the small, white thing which 
lay on the ground? 

And another one sayeth, "I shall arise and go unto 
my Father." He shall arise out of the sleep and chaos 
of darkened thinking and go unto my Father. Not 
after I have spent the day in by-play full of evil think- 
ing and doing, but I shall arise and go immediately to 
my Father. The Father is not far off when we arise 
and go to Him in the morning; in fact, He is right at 
hand, and we may commune with Him almost instantly 
by turning to Him and addressing Him, "My Father 
which art in heaven (Heaven, our consciousness). My 

[31] 



Father which is within my consciousness." Instantly 
we are within the portals of His abode — heaven. But 
when we arise and busy ourselves with a thousand and 
one little worries and cares, when we put our conversa- 
tion and prayer with God, after we have fretted 
through a dozen little irritating encounters with our 
brethren — after we have passed judgment on a dozen 
or more of our brothers — we find that when we turn to 
enter the Father's house the way is covered with nettled 
briars and weeds, which have to first be rooted up be- 
fore we can find the 'WAY — the truth and the life." 
And even though, through all the sweat of agony in 
ridding ourselves of the weeds of the day, we hear the 
soft knocking at the door, so tightly have the tendrils of 
that vining material thinking bound themselves about 
our door that we cannot open unto Him until we have 
gotten at the root of the vine and torn it away. And, 
oh, how glad we are to "open unto Him and sup with 
Him." See how compassionate He is with us. He 
has offered us a morning meal of love, purity and safety 
from all this struggling, and when we have refused to 
partake of it and gone our way over material roads — 
and at last evening has found us weary and worn — then 
His great compassion is still with us, and He is pre- 
pared to sup with us if we will but open unto Him. 

No end of love feasts has He prepared for us; no 
place in the journey is He not ready to "prepare a 
table for us in the presence of our enemies" ; no end to 
His inexhaustible love which constantly invites and 
enfolds us. 

[32] 



Then why, my dearly beloved, will you not accept 
the morning refreshing, gather and partake of that 
manna, that bread of life, that substance from above? 
Suppose you give thanks while you are partaking of this 
heavenly manna — suppose you acknowledge to yourself 
that you are filled with the bread of life, that you are 
sustained and kept by it, and that your spiritual body is 
like a well-watered garden in the midst of which flows 
the River of Life, purifying and beautifying it eter- 
nally; then, after you have bathed in the purity of this 
inflowing flood of love, arise and be about thy Father's 
business, and see if, during the long day. He does not 
direct thy every step. There will be a little thrill of 
joy ripple up in you as you secretly keep the Faith — 
within yourself — and you will feel the joy of doing His 
bidding; a little thrill of joy that will grow and broaden 
as it flows on because it is fed by an inexhaustible source 
of joy, and the hand-writing on the wall shall be your 
protection, and it shall be just the wisdom you need at 
that time. If, for example, you are about ready to 
judge your brother, the hand-writing on the wall will 
appear, ^^Judge not." What a happy translation fol- 
lows, for God has relieved you of the burden of passing 
judgment on anything — even you shall not condemn 
yourself. Think what a big responsibility is lifted 
from your shoulders — ^you do not have to judge; and 
think how easy it is to get rid of criticism when you 
say, "Well I do not have to bother with judging you — 
God will attend to that." 

[33] 



Think of the joy that will come to you that night 
when you have passed one whole joyous day wherein 
you have judged no man, and when you have said to 
yourself, ^'Neither do I condemn you." Think of what 
a restful, peaceful state of mind it brings you in, not 
only all the world, but with yourself as well. 

So to-morrow, when the first faint flushes turn the 
sapphire night into morning, gather you a measure of 
manna and take it up unto a high hill and there par- 
take of your morning repast. Perhaps this particular 
morning all the manna which falls about you will be 
gratitude and praise — and you will gather together all 
the joys and gratitude and thanksgiving you can think 
of and take them with you and feed your soul upon 
them, so that all through the day it will go singing and 
praising God and shedding its soft healing light of 
Love all about you as you go. Perhaps it will be faith 
— pure and simple faith — the kind that was rewarded 
with a perfect healing when it said, '^Speak the word." 
Do you know what that means — to be able to say, 
"Speak the word"? It means a complete abandon to 
a living, vibrating faith that is sure to accomplish. So 
it may be faith — but whatever it is, take unto yourself 
a full measure and feed thereon. 



[34] 



"LOVE LEADS THE WAY" 
The Song of the Singer 



LOVE LEADS THE WAY 

Through pastures green He leadeth me 

By the water still and calm, 
His loving arm encircles me, 

And shields me from all harm. 
When trials come to me, I know 

His healing light He'll send. 
His Love and Truth shall be with me 

Unto the journey's end. 

Fear not, for He is ever near, 

Though the way be dark and drear; 
His sweet words, ^'Peace, be still," shall calm 

All sense of mortal fear. 
If I but listen for His voice. 

His love points out the way; 
His angels shall come unto me. 

And lead to perfect day. 



"WORDS" 

The Story the Gardner Told 



WORDS 




T was only a word that started the whole 
trouble. The doctor who dwelt by the tem- 
ple said that word. He had said it, half 
unthinkingly, to the wife of Agara. "Agara 
has sickness that he knows not of, an incurable sickness 
— hopeless." 

'^HOPELESS" was the word which threw the 
wife of Agara into a panic of fear. Her spirited step 
lagged as she wended her way home, her voice was dull 
and her eyes were dimmed with tears. A word had 
done it. 

At the gate of their court she met the mother of 
Agara, who greeted her with a kiss and a kindly smile. 
^'Why these downcast eyes, my beloved?" And then 
the wife of Agara told her what the doctor had said — 
told her the word "hopeless." And likewise the smile 
died from her lips and the light of her eyes dulled and 
the mantle of gloom spread its dark folds about her. 
She had heard the word. That one word uttered in a 
half-thinking way had thus far spread its seeming 
power, and as it passed from lip to lip its influence 
widened. One after another felt the poison fangs of 
"hopeless" sink into their hearts and the deadening 
effects of its poison stealing along their veins. 

And the doctor went gaily on his way, forgetting 
in a second his message to the wife of Agara, but his 
word had set a whole household at variance, had set at 
naught years of dreaming. "Is there, then, such power 

[41] 



in a single word?" said Agara, who at last learned the 
cause of the gloomy atmosphere of his otherwise happy 
home. Can a single word, a single spoken word, carry 
such tremendous power with it? And if one man 
speaking the word '^hopeless," which is negative, can 
cause the overturning of a dozen people — can destroy 
the sunshine of a home, what will happen if a man 
chose to send out the word ^^hope"? And rising up, 
he said to his dear ones, ^'There is hope — there is yet 
the promises of the Holy Book," and so the word of 
"hope" was given out, and little by little the joy of 
former days crept back into its resting place. 

What is the power of the word? Well, let me 
see ; the worlds were framed and fashioned by words, 
and, further, the "Word was made flesh." Man him- 
self is the spoken word — the thought of God. In 
reality, the word is but the vehicle of thought, and since 
mind is everywhere present, and thought is the timber 
of which mind is composed, then the word is every- 
where present waiting to be expressed. 

Let us examine back into the original of our 
spoken word — yours and mine, for example. What 
was the thought back of our word, back of us? Here's 
the word: "Man was made in the image and likeness 
of God — free, perfect and eternal. Divinely fair. The 
son of a King." These are some of the words that 
were expressed for us — these were some of the words 
that were sent forth. And "My Word shall not return 
unto me void, but shall accomplish whereunto it was 



sent." 



[42] 



Is your word going to return void, or is it going to 
accomplish whcreunto it was sent? You only have to 
remember that you are the idea of God — the expression 
of Him, His spoken word made flesh — to know that 
you must accomplish whereunto you were sent. 

What about poverty when we seek out the spoken 
words — which shall not return unto Him void and find 
**Joint heir with Christ"? Christ the older brother — 
son of a King, and we joint-heirs with Him. Can pov- 
erty stand before the unlimited riches of God? *'You 
and r' sons of the same and only Father, the King of 
Kings. This is the spoken word that has come down 
through the ages, and which we have failed to hear. 

What about worry and care when ''My peace I 
give unto you" comes to us from the Source of all 
Peace? Can you listen for a moment while the "still, 
small voice" says "Peace, be still"? Do you catch the 
undying harmony and cadence of this word? The 
"peace which passeth understanding" is yours. Now? 
It is yours now, and you can let it be made manifest 
among you. "The word became flesh and dwelt among 
them." Let this peace be made manifest in your flesh. 

What about fear when the word "Fear not" comes 
thundering out of all time, "for I am with you alway"? 
Will this not give you a mastery, poise and peace yet 
unknown? 

What about criticism when "Judge not" relieves 
you of this distasteful duty? 

Back up all your arguments with that powerful 
declaration, "My words are spirit, and they are true 

[43] 



and they shall not return unto me void." And your 
power back of this statement is that ^'God hath said 
so." Do you want any better reason for believing it? 
God hath said so. Did not He "speak and it was 
done"? 

Then comes the practical application of these 
words — not in theory, but in every-day life — you and I. 
Let's see, there is a struggling student who needs a word 
of cheer. Are you going to speak it and see your word 
travel out and make a string of smiles and sunshine? 

There's a sick man. He is coming right to you for 
help. Are you going to say "How bad you look," or 
are you going to put on your shield and buckler and 
decapitate the word — the false word that has bound 
him? You will remember that you are armed with 
the Word of God, which is "sharper than a two-edged 
sword, turning in all directions." You won't be afraid, 
will you? because you are protected by this "two-edged 
sword, which is turning in all directions." You will 
use this sword and put an end to the lie, and after you 
have declared your truth you will not send out a legion 
of fear words after it, will you? 

Do you remember the power of Jesus' spoken 
word when the Centurion came to him and said, "Only 
speak the word"? What did His spoken word accom- 
plish? "The servant was healed in that selfsame 
hour." He did not speak the word and then say I will 
see your servant to-morrow and give him the spoken 
word for a week or month. He spoke the word and 
then went on his way, confident that "His word should 

[44] 



not return unto Him void, but would accomplish 
whereunto it was sent," and it was sent on a healing 
mission — and it accomplished it. Finally he said, 
^^Even greater works than these shall ye do." What is 
your spoken word doing all day long? 

What does 'Watch and Pray" mean other than 
guard your words and pray — affirm God's allness and 
perfection? 

Words are seeds, we are told over and over. What 
kind of a crop are you sowing? Every word springs 
up with differing degrees of strength and power. Is 
the seed of your Truth sowing going to bring forth a 
crop of mushrooms, or are they going to bring forth 
mighty oak trees? It is as easy to plant acorns as it is 
to sow mushrooms. "My words are spirit and they 
are truth, and they shall not return unto me void." 



[45] 



"THE RED ROSE" 
The Story the Host of the Inn Told 




THE RED ROSE 

O you know what it means to dwell *4n the 
bosom of the Father"? Do you know what 
it means ^'to live and move and have your 
being in God"? Since God is ever-present 
mind — then to live and move and have your being 
in God is to live and move and have your being 
in mind; and since thought is the chief fiber of mind, 
then man is in reality the thought or idea of God — sus- 
tained and protected and dependent on that mind. 
Think for a moment of, let us say, a very red rose. 
Where does the thought rest — where is the thought? 
In your mind, of course, entirely separate from the ex- 
ternal. Now think of that very same red rose in the 
next room, then in the garden, then in some foreign 
country. Easy, isn't it, to think that rose around over 
the entire world — to make it go large or small as you 
will, because it is a thought in your mind. All things 
are possible to it that are possible to your thinking. 
You could even think the rose growing out of a block 
of ice. The most frigid winds could not nip it or the 
most torrid suns could not wilt it so long as you thought 
of it as a perfect rose. 

Now, then, if man is the idea or thought of God, 
then God literally thinks man into his proper place. 
He holds in mind always the perfect conception of spir- 
itual man — unchanged by any exterior condition, be it 
heat or cold, or any other man-made condition. He 
continually sees man as His offspring, perfect, inde- 

[49] 



structible and eternal, and so He holds him in His 
mind. The perfect pattern is not lost or destroyed, but 
remains whole and intact, whether it is being expressed 
in China or New York, whether in the fields or in the 
office, the individuality of the God ideal man is re- 
tained in all its primal beauty. 

Then when you realize that you are one with this 
mind — that God is expressing you as His idea — is it 
for you to stand in the way of this perfect manifestation 
by thrusting in the distorted mortal ideas that come to 
you? Rather, should not this prayer be on your lips, 
*'Thy will be done," and put aside all outlining and 
striving to bring certain results to pass. He will not 
suffer you to be lost; He will abundantly prosper those 
who give all and follow Him — but He will do it in His 
own way and in the place or land that He has given 
unto you. Have no fear, He will not think His ideas 
into a place, a problem or condition which cannot be 
perfectly met. 'When thou passeth through deep 
waters I am with thee," and ''No plague shall come 
nigh thy dwelling." 

Then again I say unto you, "Be not afraid." God 
is mindful of His own, and His Way is peace. 



[50] 



"GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN" 
What the Poet Sang 




GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN 

lOD'S in His heaven, all is well with the 
world/' sung the poet, and "The Kingdom 
of Heaven is at hand, it is within you," 
breathed forth an inspired one. 
If the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand as we are 
told, and it is within us and is the dwelling place of 
God, then surely our consciousness is the abode of God, 
(good) and when God or good rules in the kingdom of 
consciousness, then all is well with the world (body), 
and it is like a well-watered garden, like a tree growing 
by the banks of a river. 

"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good" — dip 
deep into this fountain of pure love and fill your mind 
full of the strength and power of omnipotence. Ponder 
it, think of the nearness of Him — "nearer than hands 
or feet" — and in His heaven our consciousness. Then 
can you go forth with a new strength of purpose, a new 
courage heretofore unknown, for He will "speak as 
one having authority"; He will rule His kingdom with 
perfect peace, poise and power; He will fight the 
battle and win the victory. 



[53] 



GOD AND MAN" 




GOD AND MAN 

AN is as inseparable from God as he is from 
his shadow. The reason of one is the cause 
of the other. As nothing can obliterate your 
shadow, or separate you from it, so nothing 
can separate you from God. Storms may beat upon it, 
rain may fall upon it, but the shadow is not effaced or 
even affected until its cause is removed. Since God, 
whose image and likeness you are, whose reflection you 
are, is immovable and eternal, unchangeable and fixed 
— there is no fear that the cause for your reflection will 
be taken away. 

To have a shadow it is necessary to have light shin- 
ing on us, and the way to keep this light shining on us 
is by keeping a heart full of gratitude, full of the oil of 
joy of right living. There are no gray days in a grate- 
ful heart; the sun is always shining there. 

That which is yours will come unto you — not by 
any frantic struggling and fighting to wrestle it away 
from the Giver of all Gifts ; not by long and dark hours 
of laboriously "knowing the truth" — but by letting it 
float into you as a natural sequence of right thinking, 
just like the light comes to you in the morning. You 
don't fight for it — you don't go out to meet it; you "let" 
it come unto you. There is clean, wholesome activity 
about this letting — it is the jewel of thought turning in 
all directions to catch all the light possible — it is the 
obedience of the sunflower which follows the sun 
across the sky each day, ever with its eye heavenward 

[57] 



on the Source of all Light — and at night immediately 
after it has set — turning its face eastward, ready and 
waiting for the first faint flushes of the dawn. Keep, 
then, your mind's eye open to every bit of truth and 
love that is being sent out to you by the all-loving 
Father — and all else will take care of itself. 



[58] 



PROGRESS 

Each successive state of existence gives man more 
freedom from matter. Compare the caterpillar, who 
laboriously covers every inch of ground with his whole 
body, with his next state as a butterfly, who floats off 
without coming in contact with matter but ever so 
rarely; his silent work in the cocoon, though unseen by 
the outside world, was productive of huge results to 
himself. So is it with man, who is working diligently 
with thoughts; he may seem to have entered a cocoon 
state of existence, but anon he soars up higher, having 
cut through the walls of Jericho which bound him. 



[59] 



CRITICISM 

What will dissipate criticism quicker than the 
question which the Master traced in the dust, ''He that 
is without sin among you, cast the first stone"? If this 
be your motto, sitting in judgment on your brother will 
be unknown. 

Withhold not from me the roses of your love and 
well wishes until I have passed the portals of the great 
beyond. There — scatter not scented rose leaves of 
memory, fragrant with love, on my grave, but give to 
me the dew-covered petals of your appreciation and 
love while they are yet fresh and fair that I may drink 
thereof and satisfy my soul. 



Why do I call you friend? It is because your 

voice when you greet me calls for something from 

within which sends dull care and worry back into its 

nothingness. It is because the steady gaze of your eye 

searches through the mass of chaff and finds the few 

grains of wheat and looks well at them. It is because 

your love is like a mighty well that shields me from the 

shafts of criticism and hate. And, lastly, it is because 

you understand. 

* * * 

What more restful melody could come to you at 
evening after a long, long day than these simple words, 
"I have called you friend"? 
[60] 



On gray days take out your jewels of gratitude, for 
in them the sun of happy hours is yet shining. 



When the storm is upon you, "stand fast"; there 
is another in deeper water than you who is looking for 
your light. Unself yourself by helping the man far- 
ther down to get up to your level, and God will lift you 
both up. 

* * * 

When the day is sunny, fortify yourself that when 
the storm breaks you will find yourself protected 
against sudden shafts of wrong. 



Remembering all the while, if your load seems 
hard and heavy, that the place you find yourself in is 
the place you have made by your own thinking. Think 
yourself out of hell by knowing ''If I make my bed in 
hell, there is God," knowing that where God is heaven 
is. 



The bird singing on the bleak February bough has 
caught the message that spring is coming, and in his 
heart it has already come. So man who is spiritually 
alert catches the messages of Divine Intelligence long 
before the ice of materialism melts into the sunshine of 
Love — and he, too, sings of the completed Word, 
"Father, I thank Thee that Thou hath heard me." 

[6i] 



Why feed on the husks of hate, jealousy, envy and 
wrath when you might be feeding among the lilies, 
love, peace, calm and harmony? 



* * 



Worry is like a cat chasing its tail — it never gets 
anywhere and at last drops exhausted within the tiny 

rirrlp if has frnH 



circle it has trod 



[62] 



THE ESSRX PRISS 
NKWARK. N. J 



If 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




9 .000 045 953 7 



